


this feeling of make-believe

by samstarium



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Heist, M/M, dont worry abby + cynthia will become relevant later, laurent and edamame have a Moment in the hotel room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstarium/pseuds/samstarium
Summary: Away in Russia, Team Confidence sets their eyes on a new target-- Erik Volkov, the young CEO of his father's pharmaceutical company. But not everything is as at seems... Hoping to gain information from researcher Dr. Mila Slavsky, the group split up to blend in at Volkov Pharma's yearly gala. Features fake dating, on the Edaurent end.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	this feeling of make-believe

**Author's Note:**

> i do NOT know how to write heists, and it shows, but here we go-- originally intended as a one-shot, i want to see if this fic gets any traction n i'll consider writing some more. i wanted to finish the first chapter at least before case 4 came out, so here's the product of that. enjoy!

Makoto Edamura did not know how to dance.

  
At least that was the excuse he’d given just a few hours prior, a bit embarrassed to admit it. Of course the profession was about adaptation, but he _really_ didn’t think that prancing around in uncomfortable shoes was exactly a life skill. Laurent had tossed him the idea like it was the first he’d thought about the subject, but by now the younger confidence man knew better. 

  
Every word that came out of that French bastard’s mouth was meticulously planned out, every seemingly inconspicuous comment had some motivation that Makoto wasn’t even conscious of. He would’ve hated that about Laurent if he wasn’t so envious of the man’s talent for conspiration.

  
-  
Everything had fallen into place exactly the way they needed it to. Conning their way into one of Moscow’s most exclusive events of the year was never going to be easy, but they had already done the hard part of getting an invitation in the first place. 

  
Makoto had never heard of them before, but just a few weeks ago Laurent had informed him of their next big break-- Erik Volkov, the so-called entrepreneurial genius who had launched his father’s pharmaceutical company from a local brand to Russia’s biggest supplier in just 5 years. Not just the CEO, Volkov was the head of the company’s research lab and had pioneered the latest in a string of invaluable medications.

  
Volkov Pharma had made a name for itself manufacturing and marketing a variety of medicines, but by far their most well-known and biggest selling product was Flexina, a medication used to treat symptoms of arthritis. It wasn’t that the solution didn’t already exist, but somehow Flexina was widely available in practically every pharmacy, even into the most rural of places in Russia.

  
How, exactly, was Volkov advancing so quickly, even as their competitors slowed down with the inevitable ups and downs of financial change? He was too new to have even a file on record in the ICR, and for all intents and purposes Volkov was doing great work both in the field of medicine and in helping the economy prosper. The team had gotten an inside tip that there was dirty business afoot; Laurent had known that this event would be the perfect place to find out what it was, and take a cut in the process.

Abby and Cynthia were tasked with blending in as venture capitalists, among the many high-class business moguls who were interested in pouring money in Volkov’s research. They would learn what they could from Volkov’s many donors, who followed the company like hawks, happy to ride the wave of their newest cash flow. Additionally, they’d be able to hear from the big names at the company-- researchers and executives who were intimately knowledgeable about the company’s ins and outs. 

  
Laurent playfully called it their “bonding session” as women, which had earned him a laugh from Cynthia and a shove from Abby. Makoto knew that the team had to split up for jobs eventually, but he still wasn’t used to working without the rest of them. Still, he felt prepared to go toe-to-toe with Laurent’s mischief, but certainly not for the literal footwork. 

-  
By late evening, they were in the suite, alone together. It was a night for reconnaissance, a few days before the conference’s denouement, a gala arranged by Volkov’s longtime girlfriend-- also known by her stage name, the Silver Hare-- who was fond of expensive gowns and dance alike. Tonight, donors and their spouses would arrange themselves on the floor, enjoying cocktails and intermingling with the fabulously wealthy. While Abby and Cynthia infiltrated the prospective investors’ ranks, Laurent and Makoto would try to coax information out of Volkov at the bar.

  
Laurent had gotten them a single, the asshole. He explained that a couple getting a room with two beds would probably raise a few eyebrows, and though Makoto couldn’t exactly fault that logic, he still felt strange being alone with him so often. He had insisted on sleeping on the floor even after Laurent offered the bed. He could never tell when the man was being serious.

Laurent was reclined on the rather luxurious chaise lounge, his long legs reaching far past the end. His navy suit was unbuttoned, exposing a thin white undershirt that clung to his perfect physique. As usual, the top two buttons were undone, in a way that was both attractive and irritating. Makoto stood against the wall across from him, trying to focus on the view of the city out the window and not of the way Laurent’s eyes followed him around the room. 

  
His frame notwithstanding, Laurent had a large presence in any space. You just couldn’t help but be drawn to the charismatic Frenchman. Part of Makoto wanted to hate him for it, but he really just felt envious of how effortlessly the man caught one’s attention. It was criminal, really. _Ha_.

  
Makoto didn’t exactly feel at home with the elites of the day, but he could certainly play the part if needed. He had gone alone with Laurent’s ridiculous plan of disguising themselves as a couple, as it meant they could attend the couple’s galas and hopefully get closer to their target, who was known to hang around the bar in the evening while Volkov’s valued donors danced the night away. They had walked into the hotel arm in arm, the perfect wealthy couple who only wanted to partake in luxury and high society. 

“Relax, Edamame. All you need to do is follow my lead. Surely you’ve danced with plenty a Japanese lady back home?” Laurent seemed pleased with him, or himself, or perhaps both.  
“I- Wh- what does that have to do with anything?!”, Makoto sputtered, leaning against the wall in a way he thought was nonchalant, but didn’t do anything to help his defensive reaction. Laurent smirked, pleased to have gotten a rise out of him. Makoto exhaled once, and tried again. 

  
“I really don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, we already walked in together, isn’t that enough?” Makoto already felt weird enough as is, having to pretend to be his goddamn boyfriend just for a con. Makoto liked the man, sure, but Laurent acted as though he was being unreasonable for not furthering a fake relationship. “We can just show up together downstairs, and they’ll be none the wiser.” Part of him felt that Laurent just wanted to mess with him, and it was clearly working. He detested how much Laurent got under his skin. 

“My, you aren’t any fun at all.” Laurent fiddled deliberately with his silver timepiece, adjusting and readjusting the watch band so that the crystal sparkled in the low light. A conman’s trophy, not merely a display of wealth but of dominance. An accessory that might have been gaudy on another man was pulled off flawlessly. “Edamame,” Laurent added, watching Makoto bristle at the nickname, “The true art of disguise is in the execution. You’ve got to act the part if you want to fool anyone.”

  
“You always have to jerk me around! I know you don’t care about that.” Makoto crossed his arms defiantly, his exasperation only adding to Laurent’s amusement. His shirt was ruffled despite having it ironed just a few hours prior, and he felt unkempt as compared to Laurent’s suave presence. 

  
“ _Would you rather I jerked something else?_ ”, Laurent countered in a low, pseudo-seductive manner, and in his peripheral Makoto watched him run his fingers through his hair. Makoto twitched and he felt his face flush red. _I can’t let him have the upper hand ALL the time, damn it!_

“Y’know _what_ , Laurent?”, he retorted, finally at his breaking point. He turned to face the Frenchman head on, slowly making his way toward the chaise. “Fine. You WIN.” Laurent put on a face of false shock, mocking him. _Laurent always gets what he wants in the end, anyways._

  
“I’ll dance with you at your stupid gala, _okay_?” With each word Makoto stepped closer, and by the end he was face to face with the man. He grabbed Laurent by his shirt collar, trying to get some kind of kickback. 

  
In Japan, Makoto had fancied himself someone you didn’t want to mess with, but clearly Laurent just thought of him as a joke, and only flashed him that damn smirk again, like a caught crook. Makoto just wanted to get through the night. He didn’t need to keep getting… _distracted_ by his partner’s whims, or his dumb, wholly punchable face. “Just... shut up!”  
Makoto realized he was still inches away from Laurent’s face, and pulled back abruptly, embarrassed. _Really? “Shut up”? What are you, 5?_

  
“I’ll… I’ll do it.” He muttered, ashamed of his outburst, as he made eye contact again, Laurent’s expression unreadable. He stood in silence, frustrated and confused. Why did he say that? What did something so small matter to him? _Why_ did Laurent make him feel so, so…. So _much_?

  
Laurent had stopped laughing. For once, he didn’t say a word, but sat up unhurriedly, resting his elbow on the armrest. Makoto stared at the floor, hoping something interesting was happening under his feet that could make him forget everything he had said. Makoto noticed the armchair across the room, and sat down reluctantly, his stomach churning with conflicting feelings.

“Edamame.” He looked up from the ground and tried his best to hold Laurent’s piercing gaze. That nickname again. Laurent held the side of his face in his hand, looking straight at Makoto with those intoxicatingly blue eyes. “You know I never want you to feel like you’re doing something you don’t want to do.” _Then don’t mess with me like that…_ he thought, still annoyed, but a little more composed.

  
“It’s your choice. I simply thought you might have fun, but if you’d rather stay here, I won’t press it. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” When Makoto didn’t say anything, he thought he noticed another emotion flit across the normally indecipherable face of his partner-- hurt. “I understand if you don’t want to dance with me.”

  
“It’s not that, I-- Ugh. I don’t know. I… I do want to dance with you, Laurent.” Makoto played with a lock of his unruly hair, his heart racing. “I want to go out and have fun like everyone else with you. I don’t know why I got so angry.” Laurent thought about this for a minute, and was about to stand up when his pant pocket vibrated rhymically. He held up his hand to ask Makoto to wait, and picked up the phone. _Great._

“Cynthia?” A small pause, then Laurent continued, holding the phone against his ear. “You’ve met her, then. Good.” Another pause, and Makoto could hear Cynthia’s muffled voice on the other end. 

  
“Please give her my thanks.” Makoto knew that they were referring to Dr. Slavsky, one of the scientists working at the research facility and Volkov’s right-hand woman. They knew that she had information about Volkov that was nigh impossible to obtain anywhere else. She would be the key to unlocking Volkov’s secrets. 

  
“Yes. Mhm. Do message again soon. Bye.” He ended the call and looked back at Makoto again. “It seems as though the members of the fairer sex have made contact with Slavsky. We can meet up with them later tonight.”

  
“You’re sure she’ll talk?” Makoto tried to forgot about the uncomfortable mood in the room and focus on the job.

  
“She has to. No one else knows as much about Volkov as she does. Apart from the Silver Hare, of course, but that woman’s a non-starter.” He had to admit that Laurent was probably right. The doctor was their best shot at finding out what was really going on at Volkov Pharma. 

  
“So we’ll see them in a few hours, then.” Makoto took a shaky breath in and out. He wasn’t going to be alone with Laurent for too much longer.   
Laurent nodded slowly in response and stood up. He offered his hand to Makoto, who hesitatingly accepted it, the warmth from Laurent’s touch bringing all sorts of new sensations to the surface. 

  
“I… I still don’t know how to do any of this.”

  
“Why don’t we just take it slow, one step at a time. Let’s go downstairs.” He pulled Makoto up from his seat and walked him out the door. Makoto realized their hands were still touching, and he retracted his, flustered. He waited for Laurent to close the door to the room, and they stepped into the elevator after a brief silence of waiting.

The elevator was small, and Makoto, who wasn’t usually one to be claustrophobic, felt trapped in a box with Laurent towering over him. Their sides were brushing, and he was too nervous to move a muscle. 

  
The doors opened, in a room just adjacent to the ballroom. The muffled sounds of happy people flooded his senses, and he took another deep breath. “Everything’s going to be fine, Edamame. Just follow my lead.” And with that, he took Makoto’s hand again, plucking them from the elevator and out into the crowd.


End file.
